From This Day Forward

volunteers.

CHAPTER ONE

Lori.

Adam Ross had called her name, but Lori didn’t reply. She didn’t reply because she knew this was just a dream. She’d often dreamed that Adam Ross was calling her, and every time she answered him or reached out for him, he faded away, leaving her alone again. So she didn’t answer him this time because she didn’t want the dream to end.

Lori.

She could see him clearly. He was standing in a field, waving to her, and then he started running toward her. In her dreams, he didn’t need his cane, and he could run as well as any man. His hair looked golden in the bright sunlight, and his smile was so beautiful that it nearly stopped her heart.

She couldn’t let the dream end because in another moment he would be with her. Still, this would only happen in her dreams because in real life Adam Ross would never even look at her. Especially now.

Lori!

Someone was shaking her awake. No! she thought, fighting to hold the dream, but it was too late. Adam was already fading as consciousness returned. Reluctantly, she raised her leaden eyelids and came face to face with the real Adam Ross.

Startled, she cried out in alarm and raised her head, not from her pillow, but from the kitchen table. And she realized several very unsettling things all at once: she’d been sleeping at the kitchen table in the middle of the day, and Adam Ross himself was actually standing over her and looking even more handsome than in her dream. And a lot more concerned.

Dear heaven, what on earth...? she wondered wildly in the instant before the terror took her. Because if Adam was here, then surely...

She jumped to her feet, desperate to flee, as she glanced frantically around the room for him. The bench she’d been sitting on fell over with a crash, and the wooden bowl she’d been holding in her lap thudded to the floor, sending the peas she’d been shelling scattering everywhere. But she hardly noticed any of that in her relief to find that she was alone.

Alone with Adam Ross.

I’m sorry, he was saying in a voice as deep as a well. I didn’t mean to frighten you.

But he did. The fear rose up again unbidden as it had every day for months and certainly every time a man had come near her. What on earth was he doing here? Instinctively, she backed away and almost went sprawling over the fallen bench.

Careful, he cautioned as she grabbed the rough edge of the table to steady herself.

He bent to set the bench upright, and even as she automatically recoiled from his nearness, she saw the way he kept his left leg straight as he performed the task. Instantly, she remembered his pain and experienced the rush of affection she always felt for him.

How could she have been afraid? This was Adam, after all. The man she’d known for years. The man she’d admired for as long as she could remember. And the man she’d loved since she had come to understand what love was, even though she knew he would never love her back. Adam, of course, would never hurt her.

He straightened, and she saw he was frowning. Are you ill right, Miss McClintock? Should I get your mother?

She’s not my mother, Lori said instinctively as she always did when anyone made that mistake.

I mean your stepmother, he corrected himself. If you’re ill—

Of course I’m not ill, she assured him with false brightness, although her hand went to her stomach as if to prove her a liar. Well, that wasn’t an illness, was it? Although you’d have every right to think I was when you find me sound asleep over my chores. I don’t know what got into me, she chattered on determinedly, stooping quickly to pick up the bowl she’d dropped and collect as many of the scattered peas as she could, feeling like a complete idiot. I must have spring fever, she told him, glancing up from where he crouched on the cabin’s dirt floor, carefully rescuing the new peas.

She tried a smile, even though she knew a smile wouldn’t distract him from the rest of it. He’d known that she was poor, certainly. Hadn’t his slaves been bringing her and Bessie food ever since Pa went off to fight in that stupid war? Didn’t he know that she always wore the same dress to church, year after year?

But knowing and seeing were two different things. Now he was seeing where she lived, the dilapidated two-room cabin with its dirt floor and rickety, homemade furniture, the boxes nailed to the walls for storage of their meager belongings. Her ragged, everyday dress that had long since lost whatever color it had once had. Her bare feet, left unanswered so she could save her one pair of shoes for church.

Self-consciously, she ran a hand over her hair, as if nothing the unruly curls would somehow make up for everything else. Even more self-consciously, she quickly rose to her feet again and set the bowl back on the table. Then she realized she still held a lone pea in her hand and, her face flaming, she tossed it into the bowl with the others.

They couldn’t afford to waste even one pea. Then she risked another glance at Adam Ross.

Dear heaven, he was tall. Why hadn’t she remembered him being so tall? Or so imposing. He was wearing the dark suit he always wore to church, and the fingers of his left hand curled tightly around the head of his ornately carved cane. He looked every inch the successful planter and as out of place in the McClintock cabin as a pig in school.

What could he want here? Lori swallowed nervously.

If you’re here to see Bessie, she’s out in the fields, Lori told him, referring to her stepmother. She wished he wasn’t standing quite so close and fought the urge to step bad again.

I’m not here to see Mrs. McClintock, he informed her solemnly. I came to see you.

Me? she asked in surprise, and for one second a spark of hope flickered in her heart. Could he really have come to call on her? Was it possible that he had finally noticed her after all these years? Then, just as quickly, the tiny spark died. Even if he had, it was too late—way too late. Whatever for? she asked with more false cheer, desperately concealing the painful emotions roiling within her. If you want to talk business, you’d best see Bessie. She’s the one who—

I already saw her, Adam said his expression even more solemn, if that was possible. She called on me this morning. She told me about... about your situation.

No! It wasn’t possible! Shame washed over her like a tidal wave. Shame and humiliation and mortification so thick that she couldn’t breathe and she couldn’t even see. But that was all right because she certainly didn’t want to see the contempt on Adam Ross’s face, and she didn’t want to draw another breath, either, not if it meant she would live for another moment.

But she wasn’t going to be that lucky.

Miss Lori? Adam cried summoning her back. "Are you all right? You’d better sit down. I can call your mother for you..:.

She’s not my mother! Lori repeated through gritted teeth as she fought the nausea that threatened to choke her. Too many times had she reminded people of that fact, yet never had she felt the truth of it more than at this moment. Even though Bessie had been thoughtlessly unkind to her many times, she had never been cruel, not until now. Bessie had betrayed her, and worse, she had betrayed her to Adam Ross. How could she?

I really think you should sit down, Adam was saying. He reached out to her, perhaps instinctively, perhaps out of concern, but Lori flinched from him as if he were a leper. How could he stand to touch her? How could he stand to look at her?

She didn’t know, but she did sit, bending her knees out of habit when they bumped up against the bench. She sank down wearily and wrapped her arms around herself since no one else would. The darkness of her own personal horror hadn’t quite receded, and she could still see it lurking at the edges of her vision when she finally lifted her gaze to Adam toss again.

To his credit, he revealed nothing of his disgust for her. His fine features, the result of centuries of good breeding, wore only an expression of deep concern with perhaps a touch of alarm. What could he possibly be alarmed about?

Can I get you something? Some water perhaps? he asked solicitously.

For an instant, she pictured him wielding his cane about the cabin as he made his way awkwardly to where the water bucket sat to fetch her a dipperful. Then she shook her head and dropped her gaze again, too ashamed to look at him any longer.

I didn’t come here to judge you, Miss McClintock, he said in what he must have intended to be a kindly voice.

Lori looked up in surprise. Judge me?

His expression tightened, and she glimpsed a trace of the disgust he was trying so hard to disguise before he was able to control his expression again. The shame twisted in her like a knife, but she managed to hold his gaze.

I’m here as the head of the Ross family, he explained patiently, as if he thought her too stupid to understand unless he spoke slowly. When my father died, that left me as... well, as the oldest son. Eric and I may be brothers, but I’m still responsible for him and for his... his indiscretions.

Indiscretion? Is that what she was? She felt an insane urge to laugh. Instead she said, So what do you think you can do about this? She could hear the bitterness in her voice and wondered if he could, too.

He shifted uneasily, moving his cane, and she wondered if his leg bothered him. For no reason, she suddenly remembered how he’d come to injure his leg in the first place. That had been Eric’s doing, too. They’d both been hurt by him. Terribly hurt. In ways that would never heal.

Tears she couldn’t allow herself to shed burned behind her eyes as she forced herself to listen to what Adam Ross was saying.

She thought the color had risen in his face at her question but he did not flinch. I’m not certain what I can do, he said. You probably know that Eric has run off to join that bunch of misfits that Rip Ford is getting together to stop the Yankees from invading.

Lori nodded gravely. Everyone knew that the Yankees were, in this year of 1864, finally coming to invade Texas. Rip Ford had been a famous Texas Ranger in the old days and while he had long refused a commission in the Confederate Army, he was more than willing to lead a force of Texans against the abolitionists, negroes, plundering Mexican and perfidious renegades he said were coming to slaughter them all in their beds. After years of avoiding the draft, Erin Ross had answered this call.

I can try writing to him, Adam continued, but I’m not sure where he is, or if he’d get the letter, or even if he did, if he could get back here in time.

Lori didn’t want him back here at all. In time for what? she asked warily.

Now she had no doubt. Adam Ross’s finely constructed face was scarlet. In time to marry you.

Lori gaped at him. Marry me? Why would he marry me?

Because… He gestured vaguely with the hand that wasn’t holding his cane. If there’s going to be a child...

A child? Lori had never thought of the thing growing inside of her as a child. It was more like a cancer, something that was going to destroy her, to finish the job that Eric Ross had begun. She never should have told Bessie she was sick. If she hadn’t told her, no one ever would have known. Lori could have just killed herself the way she should have done last winter when Eric Ross had shown her just how worthless she really was.

Instead, she had to face his brother, the only man whose opinion really mattered to her, and now Adam knew how worthless she was, too.

I’m not going to marry him, she told Adam, still incredulous. How could he ever have thought such a thing?

He pressed his well-shaped lips together so tightly that the blood drained out of them, but only for a moment before making himself smile again. I know you must be angry with him for leaving you, but—

Angry! she spat furiously. I hope some Yankee blows his brains out!

As she might have expected from a man like Adam, he was a little shocked by her vehemence, but he was also too well-mannered to react. As I said, I know you’re angry now, and hurt, he continued, just as patient as before, but you can’t let a lover’s quarrel prevent you from—

Lover’s quarrel? she echoed in outrage, jumping to her feet and almost knocking the bench over again. Is that what you think? That we were lovers? That I loved him?

Well, he allowed uneasily, plainly uncomfortable with the subject. Surely, you had some feelings for him, considering what happened between you...

What happened between us was that he forced me! He held me down and put his hand over my mouth so I couldn’t breathe and he...

For a second she was back there, pressed against the cold hard ground, and she was so certain she was going to die that drawing another breath hadn’t even seemed worth the effort. Her throat closed on a sob, and she clamped both her hands over her mouth to hold it back. She couldn’t cry ii front of Adam Ross, not if she wanted to hold on to what little remained of her dignity. Dear Lord, why hadn’t she died that day?

Miss McClintock, please, Adam Ross begged her, although she wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted. Probably he just wanted her not to cry. Pa had never liked to see a woman cry, either. Should I get your moth... your stepmother? Maybe she could...

But Lori was shaking her head. She didn’t want Bessie. She didn’t want to see Bessie ever again. This was all Bessie’ fault. If she hadn’t gone to see Adam Ross, he wouldn’t be here now, would he?

Lori drew a steadying breath and lowered her hands. Don’t bother writing to him, she said, as calmly as she could. Even if he was willing, I’d rather die than marry Eric Ross.

He studied her for a long moment, his eyes as blue as rain washed sky, as if he was trying to see inside her head. Finally, he said, I see. I had no idea. Of course, I thought that you and Eric... Well, that changes everything, doesn’t it?

Lori blinked in surprise. She wasn’t sure what kind of reaction she had expected, but she knew it wasn’t this one.

Probably, she had expected him to call her a liar, the way Bessie had done.

That’s what every girl who ever got caught says, Bessie had scoffed. ‘He held me down and had his way.’ Ha! I know what you was thinkin’. You was thinkin’ ’bout his big house and the silver they got buried so the Yankees don’t find it and his mama’s jewels and all that land and how this war can’t last forever and someday he’s gonna be rich again. Set your cap for him, then you spread your legs for him, and now you got a baby in your belly and he’s long gone. I figured you for smarter’n that, Lori.

And she was smarter than that, only not much smarter, because Eric had tricked her another way. And all because she really loved Adam Ross. What a fool she was!

But when she glanced up at Adam again, suddenly she didn’t feel like a fool any longer because of the way Adam was looking at her. He was looking at her as if she was a respectable human being and not the piece of worthless trash she had felt herself to be for these past few months. As she gazed into his beautiful blue eyes, she realized something else, too: he believed her. Not only hadn’t he called her a liar outright, he really believed her when she said that Eric had forced her.

The relief of it sent the blood rushing from her head and for a moment she thought she might actually faint.

She must have looked like she was going to faint, too, because Adam reached out for her and took her arm. This time she didn’t shrink from his touch, and she let him ease her back down onto the bench again. His fingers felt so strong on her arm, strong but gentle, too. Adam Ross would lever hold a woman down and take her against her will.

She had to blink against tears as she gazed up at his face. He was so good and kind. He bore his own pain with saintly patience and never once complained. And he believed her.

She was lying, of course, Adam thought as he gazed down into her lovely face. Women always lied in this situation. What else could they do? Admit they had surrendered themselves willingly to a man who was not their husband? Admit they had given away the only commodity they had of value, the one thing of worth they could use in the eternal barter between male and female?

Not that he blamed her, of course. What other choice did a girl like this have? What other chance? And, he supposed glancing around the pathetic dwelling, she would have done most anything for an opportunity to escape this life. Erie must have seemed like the perfect way out.

And Eric, well, many a better man than Eric would have taken what she offered and blessed whatever gods he worshiped for his luck. And Adam, he was ashamed to say, numbered himself among them.

Indeed, how many nights had he awakened sweating and panting from a fevered dream that featured the luscious Lori McClintock? A dream in which his hands were full of her and he had lost himself in her silken depths. A dream in which she saw him as a normal man, in which he was a normal man, with two good legs on which to stand.

But he hadn’t been that man for many years now, and no woman would ever see him as normal, not even a girl a desperate as Lori McClintock. Except in his dreams.

Right now, of course, she was in his worst nightmare. He cleared his throat. If you don’t want to marry Eric, what do you want? He had a pretty good idea, of course. She wanted money. Her stepmother had hinted of that this morning. She’d used the words take care of her, but he knew what that meant, what that always meant. Of course, like most people in Texas, he was dead broke, except for a chestful of worthless Confederate script. They’d have no way of knowing that, though, and he wondered at his chances of making them believe it.

He watched her face as she considered his question. God, she was beautiful. Her raven hair was loose, just the way he’d always imagined it in his dreams, curling riotously down her back and tied away from her face with a piece of rawhide string. Her eyes, the deep, rich color of blueberries, gazed up at him with a puzzled innocence he knew was feigned but which was no less appealing for all of that. Her cheeks were unnaturally pale, but her skin still glowed with the warmth of satin in the afternoon sunlight. And even the shabby, shapeless dress she wore could not conceal the lush, ripe curves beneath. The curves about which Adam had dreamed. The curves which Eric would not have even considered resisting.

Jealousy was like hot bile in Adam’s stomach, but he schooled his expression to reveal nothing as he waited for her reply.

Finally, she said, I don’t know.

She was lying again. She had something in mind. He could see that plainly on her expressive face, but for some reason, she didn’t want to tell him what it was. He should have been irritated at her games, and he probably would have been if he hadn’t seen the tears glistening in her eyes.

Suddenly, his irritation evaporated into pure terror. The one thing he could not bear was a woman’s tears. Indeed, given the choice, he would have faced a whole brigade of Yankee guns instead. But of course, his leg had kept him out of the army, so he was doomed to face this instead. Miss McClintock, he tried, not really knowing what he should say, but knowing he had to say something and quick.

He’d only made it worse, though. He could see that clearly. The tears were now trembling on her thick, dark lashes, and if they started sliding down her face, he didn’t know what he would do. There must be something you need. Something you want, he insisted. Everyone wanted something, he knew. Please, God, just let it be something he could manage so he could get the hell out of here. Damn Eric, he could cause a disaster when he wasn’t even here!

But she only shook her head stiffly, as if she didn’t trust herself to speak, and in the next second a single, silver tear slid down her cheek. She wiped it quickly away, but another instantly followed, and then she was weeping in earnest, covering her face with both hands as if ashamed to have him see.

He could have groaned aloud but somehow managed to restrain himself. He also managed to restrain himself from fleeing, which was what his every instinct demanded. His father hadn’t raised him to be a coward, however, and if he wouldn’t run from Yankee guns, he wouldn’t run from a girl’s tears either. He would uphold the Ross honor—somehow.

Hovering over her, cursing his cane and his awkwardness and Eric for bringing this down on him and his own helplessness, he reached out instinctively to take her in his arms. Fortunately, he caught himself before he actually touched her and snatched his hand back again. But the strength of his desire to pull her to him and feel her softness against him shook him to his core. For a second, he could almost imagine his father’s glare of contempt.

She’s nothing but trash, he would have said, and he would have been right. Poor white trash who had survived only because the Ross family had taken pity on a widow and orphan of the Confederacy. Pay her off and be done with it! his father would have advised. Certainly, he never would have offered Eric—not even Eric whom he despised—in marriage to a girl like this. She was a scheming adventuress who deserved nothing from him.

Adam knew all of that even as he carefully lowered himself to the bench beside her and propped his cane against it. With both hands free, he had to curl them into fists to keep from reaching out to her again. As he impotently watched her shoulders shaking as she wept, he couldn’t help but notice the perfection of her frame and marvel over the differences between the female form and his own. She was, he quickly realized, naked beneath her thin dress, or nearly so.

The knowledge stopped his breath and sent a strange heat scorching over him. He was near enough that he could catch her scent, a combination of fresh air and sunshine and earthy woman that was both intoxicating and stupefying. Quickly, in an effort to distract himself, he dropped his gaze to the floor, but there he saw her bare feet showing beneath the tattered hem of her dress. They were small and delicate and perfectly formed, just like her hands under the work-roughened skin, and just as he imagined the rest of her to be.

She isn’t worthy of you, his father’s voice reminded him inside his head, but the roaring of desire drowned out the words.

Maybe... he thought, his mind racing as need overwhelmed logic and reason and good sense. Maybe he could take her as his mistress. He would provide for her and the child in exchange for...

In exchange for what? the voice of conscience scoffed. In exchange for allowing him to slake his lust on her? He’d be no better than Eric then. The only difference would be that he’d make her a high-priced whore instead of a cheap one. That wouldn’t do much to restore the lost Ross honor, would it?

And what about the child she carried? Eric’s child. There could be no doubt of that, since virtually every other man who might have fathered a child on her had left long ago to defend the Southern cause. Only beardless boys and decrepit old men remained in Texas. Oh, yes, and Adam and Eric Ross. Adam who could not fight and Eric who would not, at least until now, when the Southern cause was all but lost.

And if Adam had any shreds of doubt, Eric’s parting words to him would have settled the matter. He couldn’t recall exactly what he had said, since the words made no real sense to him at the time. Now, of course, he understood exactly what Eric had meant when he’d told Adam that finally Eric had gotten what Adam wanted.

What Adam still wanted. He sighed with longing as Lori McClintock drew a shuddering breath and used the corner of her apron to wipe the tears from her face.

What is it you’re planning to do? he demanded more gruffly than he’d intended. He was annoyed with himself, after all, not her.

She looked up, startled, as if she hadn’t realized he was so close. He couldn’t believe it. Her face bore no evidence of the tears she’d just shed except for the dampness of her lashes and the color that had bloomed in her cheeks. Was it possible for a woman to look more beautiful when she cried?

Nothing, she insisted guiltily. I’m not planning anything at all!

Yes, you are, he insisted right back. You’re a poor liar, Miss McClintock. What is it? Are you going to run away? Where do you think you could go and how could you get there? The roads aren’t safe, and a woman in your condition—

I’m not going to ran away! she snapped, and something flashed in her eyes that might have been a trace of her usual spirit, the fire that had drawn him to her years ago, even before her body had blossomed into womanhood. I know better than that.

Then what is it? What is it that you can’t tell me? Or maybe you’re ashamed to tell me. Is that it? he accused, welcoming the outrage that had begun to glow in his chest. Perhaps the heat of it could burn away the misplaced lust.

What can I do, Mr. Ross? she demanded, showing some outrage herself, except pray to die or—

She caught herself and turned her face away but not before he saw the terrible bleakness in her dark eyes.

Or what? he demanded, experiencing a new kind of terror. And when she refused to respond or even look at him, he reached out and grabbed her arms and jerked her around to face him.

She stiffened in fear and her lovely eyes widened with it, but he barely noticed in his quest for the truth. Or what? he repeated. You aren’t planning to do yourself harm, are you? Answer me!

But her only answer was a terrified gasp as she sat frozen in his grasp like a small animal paralyzed by the gaze of a predator. It took another moment for him to realize he was what was frightening her, and he released her at once. Mortified, he jumped to his feet, or tried to, forgetting as always that he couldn’t jump anymore and inwardly cursing his clumsiness and the fact that she was there to witness it.

To make matters worse, he bumped his cane and it went clattering to the floor. He stood there helpless before her, unable to walk away without it and unwilling to let her see the contortions he would have to perform to pick it up.

But when he looked at her again, he forgot everything except the fear that still shimmered in her eyes. Honor compelled him to dispel it. I didn’t mean to frighten you, he assured her as calmly as he could, and I certainly didn’t mean to... to manhandle you. I beg your pardon, Miss McClintock. I’m just... concerned about you. He almost winced at his own choice of words but was gratified at least to see that she looked a little less terrified of him.

Are you? she asked so forlornly that he wanted to reach out to her again, but he caught himself just in time. Why?

Because, he began and faltered when he realized he didn’t want to tell her the true reason. Because you... Because my brother was the one who... and the child... he stammered, at a loss for words to express himself and silently cursing Eric again for getting him into this. How many times had Eric gotten him into something? More than he cared to count, although he had to admit, this was the worst.

Oh, yes, she replied, bitterly. The child. The heir to the Ross fortunes and all that. Well, you don’t have to worry, I won’t be making any claims on you. I won’t be making claims on anyone at all.

There it was again, that awful bleakness in her eyes, as if she were looking death right in the face, and then he knew for certain: she was planning to do herself harm.

Don’t! he cried before he could stop himself.

She stiffened. I said I wouldn’t! she replied indignantly. I don’t want anything from the Rosses! Nothing at all!

No, not that! I know what you’re planning, and it isn’t the answer! And don’t forget, it wouldn’t just be your own life you’d be taking. Do you think you have the right to destroy that one, too?

Her anguish tore at his heart, and he saw beyond a doubt that he had guessed correctly. Her face was white again, her eyes large and terrified in her beautiful face, and she lifted the back of one hand and pressed it to her lips as if to hold back a sob.

He had to do something. Everything that he believed himself to be and ever hoped to become depended upon his ability to sort this out and save this girl and her child from disaster. Perhaps she wasn’t worthy of his attention, but the child she carried was a Ross. The heir to his family fortunes or whatever remained of them when this blasted war was over. Perhaps the only heir there would ever be.

Certainly, Adam would never have an heir. Eric had ensured that one day long ago when he’d crippled him, and Adam had since resigned himself to the fact that he would never be able to attract a suitable bride. And Eric, if he ever came back at all, could probably be counted upon to resist making a marriage of any kind, even if prodded by a shotgun.

So the only child who might ever succeed them was the bastard that grew inside this girl. His father would never have approved of her. His mother... Well, he couldn’t be sure what his mother would have done, since he’d been so young when she died, but surely she would have disdained Lori McClintock, too.

But they would both expect Adam to preserve the Ross honor at all costs. And in this case, preserving the Ross honor meant preserving this girl and the child she carried. He could think of only one way to do so.

The idea seemed to come to him full-blown, but he knew he must have been thinking about it all along, ever since he’d walked in here and found her slumped over the table. For a moment he’d been afraid... But then he’d seen she was asleep, looking like an angel, all innocence and light.

Well, perhaps not innocence.

Miss McClintock, you need to be married, he said.

The fear in her eyes flared brighter, and she shook her head vehemently. I won’t marry him! she insisted. I’ll die first!

He believed her. Then you must marry me.

He hated the baldness of the words and hated the way he had said them even more, but there was no going back. Besides, a girl in her position would be so grateful for the offer that she couldn’t possibly be offended by the tone.

What? she asked, her face crinkling in confusion. She obviously couldn’t believe her good fortune.

I said, you must marry me. The words wanted to stick in his throat, but he let his gaze drop to her breasts for an instant to remind him of why he was so willing to make the offer. Then he found it easier to go on. You are with child, Miss McClintock. The man responsible is gone and might never return. If you bear the child out of wedlock, you face ruin and disgrace. Neither of you will ever be able to hold your heads up. But I am offering you the protection of my name.

She still couldn’t believe it. But why? Why would you...? She gestured helplessly.

Because the child you carry is a Ross. We take care of our own, Miss McClintock, and as head of the family, it’s my duty to take care of you, too.

It all seemed so clear to him, but she was shaking her head. I couldn’t, she insisted.

Stung, he stiffened, certain she meant she couldn’t bear to tie herself to a cripple. I realize I must repulse you, he said, feeling the heat of humiliation crawling up his neck. But I assure you that—

Repulse? she echoed, even more confused now. What are you talking about?

His face felt as if it were on fire, but he forced the words past the tightness in his throat. My leg.

She glanced down at it in apparent surprise, as if she hadn’t been thinking of it all along. Oh, no, that’s not what I mean! she insisted. I mean, you don’t really want to marry me, do you?

He thought he saw something flicker in her eyes, something that might have been hope, but he knew he must have been mistaken. What I want isn’t important, he lied, knowing that while he might not want to marry her, he would not object at all to having her in his bed. Eric may have had her first, but Adam would have her forever. The thought sent the heat in his face surging to other, less seemly places. Forcing himself to ignore it, he hurried on. I have to think of the child, and you have to think of the future. What will become of the two of you if you don't marry me? Really, Miss McClintock, I don’t see that either of us has a choice in the matter.

There, he thought, watching as the emotions played across her marvelously expressive face. Surely she must understand now and realize she had no choice. Cripple or not, his was the best offer she was likely to get. A girl with nothing who was carrying a bastard child should jump at the chance for security and respectability. After a few moments, the riot of her emotions finally settled into the calm of decision, and she drew a deep breath. He braced himself to receive her effusive gratitude.

I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Mr. Ross, she said, her large eyes infinitely sad, "but I can’t let you make a sacrifice like that. It wouldn’t be right or fair, and like my pa always said, the McClintocks might not have much, but we’ve got our honor.